Chapter 9: The Aftermath
In a city ravaged by the revolutionaries, Dale purchased a small shop.
“We’ll stay here until the time is right,” he said.
“Here… in this place?” Yufi stammered, unable to comprehend.
Dale nodded. “Yes.”
Yufi swallowed hard, struggling to understand. The city was in chaos, and it was only a matter of time before more revolutionary forces arrived.
“But the revolutionaries—”
“We’re waiting for them,” Dale interrupted. He knew that once word of the city’s turmoil spread, the revolutionaries would send reinforcements, and they wouldn’t be a small force.
It was a reckless plan, but it was the quickest way to get the attention of the revolution’s leaders.
“Isn’t it dangerous? What if they ambush us?” Yufi asked, her voice tinged with worry.
“I’m monitoring their movements through the Blue Web. Any surprise attack would be futile. You have nothing to worry about,” Dale reassured her.
Yufi didn’t fully grasp what he meant, but she nodded quietly.
“We have enough food to last a few days,” Dale noted.
“Yes…”
“We could have a more lavish meal elsewhere,” he suggested.
“No, that’s not necessary!” Yufi protested, waving her hands dismissively. Dale chuckled softly and turned away.
He rummaged through the shop, gathering some soft bread, sausages, and soup. With a flick of his hand, flames danced in the air, heating the soup until steam rose from it.
“Here, eat up,” he offered.
“Thank you, Uncle Dale,” Yufi replied gratefully.
After casting his magic, Dale bit into a piece of hard black bread, his own simple meal.
Some time later, the city was enveloped in a web of power Dale had once wielded as the Blue Tower Master. Though he had passed much of that power to Lize, the essence of it remained.
Unseen in the shadows, figures moved, unaware of the web’s presence. The Blue Web whispered their movements to Dale, and soon after, silent footsteps descended onto the wooden floor of the shop. They were elite soldiers, clad in the same armor that had once attacked the Marquess of Rosenheim.
As they surveyed the darkness within the shop, a figure emerged—a man in a robe.
“Do you still think this fight has meaning?” the man asked, causing the soldiers to catch their breath.
“I encountered others like you in Rosenheim. Do you know what happened to them?”
“You… you can’t be…!”
“The only reason you’re still alive is because I see no need to kill you,” the man said, his voice calm and detached, as if he were the very embodiment of death. One soldier, mustering courage, spoke up.
“Why did you massacre our comrades in this city?”
“They tried to kill me,” the man replied simply. “Are you here to do the same? I suspect so.”
With those words, the darkness within the shop began to stir.
“This is your last chance. Bring your commander to me now,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.
The soldiers’ pride was stung by the man’s audacity, but before they could react, a scream pierced the darkness. A tendril from the shadows had silently ensnared one of the soldiers, crushing him with a sickening crunch.
“This is your final warning. Withdraw and bring your commander to me,” the man repeated.
The soldiers’ advanced armor was useless against the ancient darkness, crumpling like paper, revealing the gruesome remains within. The malevolent shadows writhed, filling the room with a palpable sense of dread.
“We… we accept your terms,” one soldier finally conceded, understanding the futility of resistance.
The shadows retreated, leaving the man alone, perched on a table as if it were a throne, watching the soldiers disappear into the night.
“You can’t do this! It’s too dangerous!” protested the revolutionaries’ strategists, blocking the path of their leader. Though not the head of the entire movement, he was a pillar of their cause.
“He wants to negotiate, and we can’t handle him with our current strength. Isn’t that right, Colonel Bourbon?” the leader said, his voice calm and composed.
“Even our armored comrades couldn’t stop him, and the townspeople say he commands an army of the dead,” one strategist added, his voice trembling.
“An army of the dead… like the return of the Dark Emperor,” another whispered.
The leader paused at the mention of the Dark Emperor. “As I’ve said, opposing a sorcerer of his power is unwise.”
“But his magic is so dark and ominous! Even if it means bloodshed, we should gather our forces and launch a full-scale attack—”
“Are you suggesting we mobilize an army against one man? And what if our fallen soldiers join his undead ranks?” the leader countered.
Colonel Bourbon fell silent, and the leader continued, “I must go. I’ll speak with him myself.”
“Very well, Lord Eurys,” the colonel conceded.
The next morning, the revolutionary forces surrounded Dale’s shop. Yufi watched from the window, her breath catching at the sight.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” Dale said, his voice serene, as if nothing could disturb his peace.
“But… breakfast?” Yufi hesitated, glancing at the tense situation outside.
“Why not?” Dale asked, his tone so casual that Yufi couldn’t help but be taken aback.
Just then, footsteps approached the shop, deliberately unhidden.
“Excuse me, nameless dark sorcerer,” a voice called out.
Dale turned, a wry smile on his lips at the title. A man stood there, red-haired and wearing a familiar smile, though Dale didn’t recognize him.
“My name is Albert Eurys,” the man introduced himself.
Dale continued preparing breakfast, heating soup and handing over bread without a word.
“I’m intrigued by the armor your forces use,” Dale finally said after a pause.
Albert smiled. “May I ask for your name, sorcerer?”
“I’ve had many names, but none matter now,” Dale replied.
“Not necessarily,” Albert said. “Some things remain unchanged, even in the shadows of a changing world.”
“The Eurys family still endures?” Dale asked.
“You know of us?” Albert inquired, surprised.
“I’ve seen and experienced things beyond your imagination, young vampire,” Dale said, his words causing Albert’s expression to falter.
It wasn’t surprising that Dale knew his true nature; a sorcerer of his caliber would easily discern such things. But to be called a “young vampire” so casually was unexpected.
“Even without magic, your kind still holds power. Is that why you seek a new world through revolution?” Dale continued.
Albert’s eyes widened, but he remained silent.
“The emperor was overthrown to justify the revolution. Those outside still fight to depose him, unaware of the irony,” Dale mused.
Everyone has shadows, and Dale seemed to see through the revolutionaries’ as if they were his own.
“I have no interest in any of it. I seek only one thing,” Dale declared.
“The relics of the Fourth Empire your revolutionaries are uncovering. It can’t just be about the magic armor,” Dale pressed.
“How do you know about that?” Albert asked, taken aback.
“No one can hide their shadows from me,” Dale said, rising to his feet.
“I have nothing more to gain from you. Your shadow has already spoken the truth,” Dale concluded.
Albert’s face froze as he grasped the meaning behind Dale’s words.
“The Shadow Lord…?” Albert whispered.
“Does the conflict between gold and shadow still persist?” Dale asked, his voice calm.
Albert muttered to himself, “It can’t be. The Shadow Lord, the Emperor, is still in the capital…”
Yet here was another claiming the name and power of the Shadow Lord. It was unthinkable.
“Is the empire ruled by shadows, with the golden lord leading the revolution against it?” Dale wondered aloud.
Since ancient times, the struggle between gold and shadow has persisted. Gold would triumph, then shadow, and then gold again, as the empire’s history repeated itself.
Yet, the world remained unchanged.
“Gold and shadow mean nothing to me anymore. I’m only interested in the relics of the old empire.”
With those words, the man rose to his feet.
In the ancient conflict between gold and shadow, there were those who were granted power and destiny. But the man seemed indifferent, walking away without a care.
“Shall we go, Miss Yufi?”
“Y-yes!”
Having secured all the secret information hidden within Albert’s shadow about the revolutionary army.
Who exactly was this man? And what did he truly desire?
For the first time in his life, Albert Eurys, a member of the bloodline that ruled the world from the shadows, shivered with an unfamiliar fear.